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Monday, November 11, 2013

V9:Chapter Five-Heads Up

Volume Nine

Chapter
Five

Heads
Up

In which Dodger is captured

Dodger
and Lelanea caught up with the others just as the knight was securing his packs
to his horse. Boon wasn’t kidding when he said the man dressed differently when
not in his knightly getup. Sir Rodger—though it was hard to say that now
without the armor—wore pretty much what Dodger usually found himself in;
comfortable denim pants, a loose fitting flannel shirt, a well worn pair of
boots and a hat that had seen far better days. The man also sported a pair of
pistols at his waist, which made Dodger wonder why the man favored the sword
when battling something as dangerous as a dragon. Why go for a skewer when you
had your own firepower on your side?

“Hello
there!” Sir Rodger shouted with a nod as Dodger and Lelanea approached. “Won’t
be a moment, then we can head out as a group.”

“He
says we may travel with him,” Boon said. “He also says we are welcome to any of
his supplies or equipment if needed.”

“Tis
true,” Sir Rodger said.

“That
is very kind of you,” Lelanea said.

“Not
at all,” Sir Rodger said. “It is most unfortunate that whatever magic brought
you here was unable to transport your supplies as well.”

“You
got that right,” Dodger said. He nodded to Boon, and made a mental note to
congratulate the man later for coming up with such a clever cover story.

“It
is auspicious for all of us that Mr. Boon found me,” Sir Rodger said. “It is
imperative that I help my fellow man, and lady. That is the code of the knight.
Any chance to exercise my duties I find most fortunate.”

“And
don’t forget,” Boon said, “that we are willing to help you out as well.”

“Of
course. I am only too pleased to accept your assistance.”

“We
are only too glad to help if we can,” Dodger said.

“Mr.
Carpenter,” Sir Rodger said, “if you plan on offering the kind of help you
dispensed during our struggle with that dragon, then I welcome the assistance.
I have never seen such a display of bravery and accuracy.”

“It
was nothing.”

“Nothing?
It certainly was something. It was some fine shooting.”

Dodger
glanced to the knight’s pistols again, and curiosity got the better of him. “Those
are Colts, aren’t they?” Dodger suspected the last bit, because that was the
brand Al always carried.

“Why
yes, they are.”

“Do
you mind if I ask why you were waving that blade around when you have a perfectly
good set of pistols?”

With
a serious look, Sir Rodger touched his hands to his guns. “I favor the blade
for the dangers of the forest and the wandering monsters that I cannot force
from my path. I only employ the gun when absolutely necessary.”

“I
can understand that. Good ammo is hard to come by this deep in the woods.”

Sir
Rodger maintained his serious air, shaking his head at Dodger. “No sir, I am
afraid you do not understand. While I appreciate your astounding display of
talent back there, I can assure you I would’ve eventually vanquished the beast
by blade alone. Firing at everything that poses a problem is not the way of the
knight. The gun is reserved for those who have earned Beso de Fuego.”

It
took every ounce of will Dodger possessed not to roll his eyes at the drama of
it all. Beso de Fuego? Spanish for
the Kiss of Fire. No wonder the guns all but blasted a stream of flames at the
dragon. For Pete’s sake! What other kind of nonsense had Al been teaching the
gal? Dodger felt the pressure of eyes on him, and he knew Boon and Lelanea were
watching to see how he handled the knight.

“My
mistake,” Dodger said. “Next time I and my guns will stand back and let a
professional take care of the problem. Lesson learned.”

At
this, Sir Rodger lost his superior air, deflating into pure modesty. “Dear sir,
do not take my words as a challenge. Allow me to apologize. I meant nothing by
it. Sometimes I get wrapped up in my own codes I forget not everyone around me
subscribes to the same ideals. Please, forgive me.” The knight bowed, deeply,
almost scraping the ground with his humility.

Again,
Dodger had to hold back a huff of cynicism. Just how gracious could one man be?
“Nothing to forgive, Sir Rodger. I didn’t mean to step on your ideals. I was
just asking a question. Why don’t we just call it even and get on our way?”

The
knight righted himself, revealing another wide grin. “Of course. Let us move
along before we spend half the day apologizing to one another.” Sir Rodger
grabbed the reigns of his horse and clucked, coaxing the animal into motion. “I
am afraid I only have the one mare, so we will have to walk.”

“Nonsense.
Your current form doesn’t trouble her in the least. Isn’t that right, Henrietta?”

The
horse whinnied and whipped her head toward her saddle.

“See?”
Sir Rodger said. “She offers her services as well.”

“How
quant,” Boon said.

“How
absurd,” Dodger said under his breath.

“She
certainly is good hearted,” Lelanea said. “But I think I will pass all the
same. It’s a good day for walking, and it has been some time since I felt the
grass under all fours.”

“All
fours?” Sir Rodger asked as they walked along.

Lelanea
was taken aback by her own slip. “Oh, um, I meant …”

“Lelanea
was locked away for a long time,” Boon said. “I managed to rescue her from the
basement of the witch’s hut before we fled together.”

“Interesting,”
Sir Rodger said. “You are quite the hero, Mr. Boon.”

“Naw.
I just did what needed doin’. And please, call me Washington. Everyone does.”

“Washington it is.”

Within
minutes, the party reached a well traveled road cut through the thick forest. Sir
Rodger fell into this path, heading north at a strong pace. The man was
obviously anxious to reach his destination, though where the group was headed,
he didn’t say. Dodger reckoned he could corner Boon later, alone, and get as
many details as possible.

Turned
out, the knight was not only all sorts of friendly, he was also far too chatty
for Dodger’s tastes. Sir Rodger spent most of that first day’s travel sharing
tales of his great exploits—which consisted of the few stories Sarah had heard
about Dodger either from her mother or Al, all dressed up with suitable fairy
tale substitutions, of course.

Tales
that held an embarrassing amount of truth, even with the embellishments.

“And
that,” Sir Rodger said as he wound down his latest story, “is how I rescued
Princess Sarah and her mother, Queen Patricia, from the horrible clutches of
the Duke of Alabama.”

“No,”
she said. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing. I’m afraid it is a very boring and
short story.”

“I
doubt you could bore me if you wanted to,” Sir Rodger said.

Dodger
lent one ear to the conversation, while he kept another to the woods around
them. Somewhere between Lelanea’s words and the sounds of the party traveling,
Dodger swore he heard a snap of a twig, followed by a rustle of undergrowth,
both telltale signs of something, or someone, following them.

“My
condition is simply the result of being curious,” Lelanea said. “I snooped
about in a place I shouldn’t have, and ended up with a curse on my head, as
well as my heart.”

The
shuffling in the woods returned in a steady rhythm, or rather rhythms, as if more
than one person were trying to match the party’s footsteps. Dodger struggled to
listen to both the quiet pursuit and Lelanea’s story as he unsnapped the catch
on his holster and rested his fingers over the grip of his weapon.

“I
have always been inquisitive,” she continued. “I find delight in all forms of
knowledge, and that was my undoing. To further my understanding of the world, I
sought the company of a wise woman, who wasn’t as friendly as I had hoped she
would be. She turned me into the form you see before you now. I sought an
answer to my curse alone for many years, until I met Boon, and now I am pleased
to say my beloved also seeks a cure.”

“And
I will not stop until I find one,” Boon added.

“A
cure you believe the princess possesses?” Sir Rodger asked.

“Yes,”
Lelanea said. “The, ah, the witch let it slip one day that the only way I could
ever return to normal was with the help of royalty.”

“Help
I am sure she will willingly give. The princess is nothing if not generous.”

“That
is reassuring to know,” Boon said.

“Speaking
of reassuring,” Lelanea said. The wolf came to a stop, bringing the whole
company to a sudden halt. “It would reassure me if our uninvited company would
just join us, rather than eavesdropping so rudely.”

“Funny,”
Dodger said as he pulled his gun, “I was thinking the same thing.” He cocked
the hammer and aimed the weapon to the line of trees.

The
forest fell suspiciously quiet. Not a bird chirped. Not an insect cheeped.

“What
sort of game is this?” Sir Rodger said.

“We
are being followed,” Dodger said.

“Nonsense.”

Boon
pulled his weapons as well, taking a double fisted aim for the trees on either
side. “Sir, if these two say there is someone following us, then you can be
sure we have been followed.”

Drawing
his sword, Sir Rodger stepped in front of the guns. “Show yourself, whoever you
are. Or I shall let my friends here open fire. I should warn you, they never
miss.”

The
underbrush rustled, after which a squirrel ran out from the bushes. The thing
came to a cold stop, staring up at the party in wide eyed surprise, twitched
its tail once, then ran back for the relative safety of the trees once more.

Sir
Rodger turned about to grin at Dodger. “Me thinks you and your friends might be
a bit overzealous.”

“And
me thinks you should pay more attention to your surroundings,” Dodger said. He
raised the gun and fired high into the trees.

There
came a soft groan, followed by the slithering sound of a rope slipping away. Branches
cracked and snapped in a crescendo of descent as some unfortunate soul fell to
their death from a treetop perch. A body hit the ground just a few feet behind
Sir Rodger, who, to his credit, never even flinched.

“Point
taken,” Sir Rodger said.

“They’ve
killed Fiddle Bottom!” someone yelled from the trees.

“Get
‘em!” another man cried.

Out
from the forest, on either side of the armed party, poured at least a dozen
men. They scrambled down from the trees and burst forth from the bushes,
snarling and cursing and shouting obscenities the likes of which would’ve made
Al furious to hear. Dodger fired at the one man, a shot that went far too high
of its mark. It took Dodger a moment to readjust his aim when it dawned upon
him that all of the men were small. Not just on the short side of things, no,
small as in miniature. Not one of them stood taller than Lelanea, and she was
on all fours to begin with. All of the men dressed garishly in a mix between
renaissance garb and modern day attire. Frilly blouses with denim pants, loud
colored dusters and patchwork leather hats. They looked more like a theatre
troupe and less like a bunch of thieves.

The
small men rushed the party, each brigand armed to the teeth with daggers and short
swords and throwing knives. Lelanea leapt at her prey, tearing into the enemy
with vicious abandon. In seconds, five of the men had her pinned to the ground
by dog piling atop of her. Sir Rodger raised his blade but the little men were
quick on their feet, throwing themselves at the swordsmen before he got the
chance to swing. Boon fired wildly, with both guns, blowing chunks out of trees
on either side before the brigands had him face down in the dirt. Dodger
managed to take care of a few of the men, landing deadeye shots that knocked
them back with an impressive recoil, before three of the little ones grabbed
him by the legs and dragged him to the ground. Dodger struggled for a good bit,
but to no avail. For a bunch of miniature men, they sure put up a hell of a
fight.

“Quit
your thrashing!” one of the men yelled. “We’ve got your friends and you ain’t
goin’ nowhere.”

“I’ll
quit fighting when you’re dead,” Dodger said.

The
little men chuckled at Dodger’s sass talk while they set to tying his hands
behind his back.

“Talks
as big as he is,” one of the men said. “We aught’a cut his throat. Teach him
for attacking us.”

“I
aught to tear your throat out,” Leleana said.

“Shut
up, mutt,” the first man said. He whipped a blackjack from the depths of his
yellow jacket and rapped her on the nose with the thing. The man then produced
a muzzle, which he proceeded to work over Lelanea’s snapping jaws. “Hold still
you hound, or I’ll beat you until you howl.”

“You
leave her be!” Boon shouted as he wiggled in his bonds, ready to tear the
little man apart for harming the lady.

As
the leader and his men laughed again, Dodger heard the sounds of clattering
hoof steps approaching from behind. A little man passed Dodger, leading a pair
of mules that in turn pulled a large wagon, jingling and jangling with a
plethora of supplies tied to the outside of it.

The
yellow coat turned to stare at Sir Rodger. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“I
am Sir Rodger Dodger.” The knight bowed, as best he could seated with his hands
tied behind him. “Knight of the Royal
Court, defender of the Kingdom of Baker
and personal guardian to Princess Sarah.”